


traître

by Anonymous



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Gen, Other, Portgas D. Ace Lives, What-If, fixing as it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29799513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: the guilt that follows him is heavy, heavier than any sea stone or pure salt water could ever make him. all he can think is a mantra, mantra of “i wasn’t the one to kill thatch”.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace, Portgas D. Ace & Whitebeard Pirates
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Anonymous





	traître

**Author's Note:**

> #swag
> 
> any errors and additions will be fixed in the morning but
> 
> this is just something that i managed to scramble up a couple weeks ago and is too pussy to post on my official acc yet so.. 
> 
> ALSO this isn’t my original idea! i read a fic with this plot(just heavier) and was immensely inspired

The word _traitor_ dances on his tongue and twists into his veins like blood. 

Ace’s hair is oily, mostly because the dye has made it susceptible to any damage that his natural hair would rein. It’s even kissing his shoulders now, the man finding no strength or will to cut it. He couldn’t even stand looking at his reflection longer than necessary. The cold air of the winter island kisses against his skin, and he curses his devil fruit because he deserved to freeze. 

He hadn’t expected Teach to use Thach’s murder against him, lying through the gaps in his teeth that Ace had stolen his brother’s life quicker than he could summon flames. 

Why did it hurt so much when they denounced him as one of their own? Ace didn’t know what to say when the Den Den Mushi spat those words at him and said that nothing he could do would possibly get them to take him back. He wanted to imagine that this was all a joke; that Marco was waiting to greet him at the highest point one the ship, that Izou was preparing new makeup to wear and thinking about new teases that he’d use upon Ace, that Thach wasn’t dead and in fact— making another stew that’d erupt cheers through the canteen. 

The tattoo on his back burns, it feels more like scar than Pop’s— _Whitebeard’s_ Mark. 

Ace’s lips quiver when he lets a hand sneak behind him and underneath his shirt, fingertips kissing the ink and he has to hold back the dry sobs. 

He had spent so long trying to find a will to live, something aside from Luffy’s stretched grin and the echoing promise that he needs to follow Sabo’s promise. To protect that little brother of theirs. He wonders how his little brother is faring, does he still look so youthful? 

Fire-Fist Ace disappeared from the world the minute news broke that he was tossed out by the Whitebeard Pirates, under the crime of the worst thing a pirate could do to his crew. _Killing another crew mate_. 

They spat words at him that he slowly began to believe, and he couldn’t even face his own or rather, _anybody’s_ wanted posters whenever he decided to wander. Time escapes him, wears on his body like a winter coat, but according to the island a few trips over; it’s been almost two years. 

The only poster that held any kind of warmth was Luffy’s, which he remembered parading around the Moby Dick and telling everyone that “this is the boy that I can’t wait for you all to meet!” He hopes that the hate they hold for him isn’t extended to the straw-hat wearer, his crimes shouldn’t affect Luffy. Luffy kept his vivre card safe, and he hopes that Luffy’s reassured that Ace hadn’t gone and killed himself. 

If he ever lost the only thing connecting him to Luffy, his _brother_. 

His only remaining _will_.

Ace would probably throw himself into the ocean, because this single slip of paper was worth so much more than what Ace had left in his life. As long as Luffy knew that he was alive, that his older brother was there for him— that’s all that seemed to matter.

The fire is flickering out, both in Ace’s makeshift cottage and the one in his heart. Mostly because that will he had found is gone. 

His eyes are wet. 

Whitebeard’s welcoming laughter flickers in the distance, but Ace knows they’re far from him. 

And with that, Ace _cries_. 

________

  
  


He has to take care of himself alone now, not like he wasn’t capable of doing so in the first place. It feels nostalgic because he used to do this so often when he was younger; metal pipe over his shoulder and scampering over tree roots. Sabo right beside him and their littlest brother scrambling behind them, a collective warmth.

It was just harder when your self worth is declining, when you had to readjust to nobody being around to help you. So burning wood became repetitive, plucking snow dusted fruits became the normal, and Ace was still hesitating. 

He wanted to go back, to tell everyone that he was innocent. He wanted so badly to embrace his old captain in a hug and tell them that he loves them. 

“ _Traitor_!” Someone screams, distinctly like Marco’s voice. 

The ravenette slaps his forehead, laughing bitterly. There’s no happy noise that emits from him though, because Ace lost his joy the second he became dead to the world. It’s not like he needed it, there was nobody in the world that would listen to the happy songs of a dead man. 

Snow is bundling up more outside, atop of trees and clumping up on the roof of Ace’s shoddy cottage. 

The island that the fire logia resides on is isolated, empty aside from the company of the animals that gather within the surrounding woods. It reminds him of Dawn Island, the jungle-like woods that is. 

He should’ve gone insane so many years ago, but the sound of the ocean stirs him alive and he’s reminded that Luffy loves him. That Garp probably loves him too. 

The man tosses more fire into the fire pit, wiping his tears. 

Maybe some of the crew missed him, like Deuce. He missed Deuce, hopes that he’s doing fine.

He flinches at the curses from Izo and Marco, the death-stricken expression on Thatch’s face when his body laid within the infirmary. They’ve carved themselves into his memory, souring his mood and definitely his appearance. 

The _Portgas D. Ace_ on the wanted poster wasn’t the same as he was now, a _shell_ really. His body has thinned due to lack of his previously routined training as well as deflating diet, his eyes are darkened with heavier bags, and he’s tired. 

Ace stares at the ceiling of his shack from where he’s bundled beneath heavy pelts of furs and shoddily woven blankets. It’s as warm as he himself, and it mimics a furry hug. 

_You’re innocent Ace_ , he whispers to himself, you _didn’t kill Thatch_. 

He lets the tear fall and ignores it as it soaks into the cloth pillow beneath him.

_Then why did he feel like a murderer_?

It was all Teach’s fault, and Ace couldn’t even prove himself innocent. 

**Author's Note:**

> #pain
> 
> uuuhhhhhahahhaha ace poor baby :(


End file.
